


Change Up

by confessionsofashyfangirl



Category: K-pop, SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Discovery, Friendship, Journey
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-27
Updated: 2017-09-28
Packaged: 2019-01-06 01:21:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12201135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/confessionsofashyfangirl/pseuds/confessionsofashyfangirl
Summary: Hoshi is a dancer who’s treated as a servant, Woozi is a singer/composer/lyricist hoping to do great things but being cut off at the last minute, S.Coups is an underground rapper struggling to get his pay. The three unfortunate friends find themselves on a peculiar journey into the unknown which turns to shape their lives forever and realise they haven’t even showed half of what they’ve got. It’s time to Change Up.





	1. Keep Up

**Author's Note:**

> This story was inspired by SVT Leader’s Change Up. It also has nothing to do with their real back stories.
> 
> Update: I apologise for not getting back to this story in a while, I've been busy with other projects but I hope to finish this soon and get it posted. Sorry for the wait.

The music pounding from the speakers synced with Soonyoung’s footfalls as he corrected his routine. The sleeves of his oversized t-shirt followed his movements, gliding with a finite level of grace. Unlike his sleeves, the neck of his shirt clung to his chest, sticky with sweat. He’d been dancing to the same beat for the past five hours, taking quick breaks to go to the toilet and drink some water before getting back to it. It was already 3am and he needed to have the routine, which he had been given at 8pm the day before, completely created and memorised before presenting it to his manager and some big time producer at 7am in the hopes that the choreography could be sold to some new boy band.

Pressing his lips together tightly he watched his feet move to the rhythm, letting them follow the memorised steps before spinning in a tight circle and spreading his arms out to slide to the side. It probably didn’t look very impressive with just one person, but with 7 or 8 it would look majestic. Letting a small smile grace his lips, Soonyoung sweeps back his wet hair and takes a drink of water before he restarts the music and begins all over again. 

It wasn’t until 5am that Soonyoung had created and memorised the whole piece. It wouldn’t have taken so long if he would have actually liked the songs. It was much too stereotypically happy pop for him, the lack of a strong bass making it hard for him to set in the steps to the songs. But nonetheless he’d done it, he’d created an amazing choreo that would surely impress not only his manager but also the producer, he was sure of it. Letting out a laugh Soonyoung let himself fall onto the floor, his chest rising and falling heavily. This was it, this was going to be his big breakthrough, he could feel it. He’d worked too hard, endless months, for this. It was now or never and he knew it. 

He stayed on the floor till his breathing had calmed and he felt grounded again. It was time to get going. Getting off the floor he packed his stuff into his duffle bag and left the training room spotless. Taking the stairs he made his way to the lower floors where the trainee showers were. The water was still cold at this time in the morning but he needed something to keep him awake and this was a great opportunity. By the time he was out of the shower he was blanched and shaking from head to toe but very much awake. Getting dressed in his reasonably good dancewear he made his way to the back exit of the building. 

The walk from the dance studio to the entertainment building wasn’t far and Soonyoung had enough time to be able to walk there and also get a snack for breakfast. By the time he arrived at the front door of the building it was 6.30am. He had arrived earlier than needed so he had enough time to sit outside and enjoy his food. He watched the cars drive past, no one even giving him a second glace. Bleach blonde hair was probably common siteing in front of an entertainment building after all. He wondered what it would be like, to be unable to sit at on the steps like he was now. What it would be like to be instantly crowded by fans trying to get photos with him, even a signature. Maybe that’d be his reality soon, who knew. Giddily Soonyoung finished his food and waited for the clock to strike 6.50am before he went in. 

Just as the big hand on his wrist watch turned to the printed 45 his phone started ringing. He takes his phone out of his front pocket, eyeing it curiously, uncertain who would call him at such a time. Seeing his manager’s name pop up he calms for a second before the realisation hits him that he wasn’t meant to call him at this time. Something was wrong, Soonyoung didn’t know what it was, but he knew something was very off. 

“Hello?” he asked into the receiver. 

“Hoshi? Yes. Listen, the recording you sent me this morning was great. Unfortunately the producer doesn’t have time to meet with you and see the dances himself so he’s asked me to just send him the video,” comes the crackling response. 

“Uhm, okay that’s alright. Are you sure there isn’t anyone for me to meet? Maybe a choreographer of the company or-”

“Hoshi please, I need you to go pick up my car. I’ve already sent them your name, you know where I normally send it. Go pick it up and just keep it in the garage. I’m leaving for Singapore soon and I’ll be home tomorrow at 9pm so come drop it at my house then. Make sure it doesn’t get a scratch or you pay.” 

“Sorry but I thought-”

“9pm tomorrow.” The beep of the dead line flattens the atmosphere. Soonyoung places his hands in his laps and looks down at his phone wondering what happened. Even worse, what was going to happen. They were going to rip him off. He knew it. Without him and others as witnesses they could easily just say that he had agreed to dance to choreography they had made as an example. They were going to take his work and call it their own. They’d make millions from this where as he’d be lucky if his manager gave him anything. And the worst part was that now he couldn’t do anything about it. He had no proof but sweaty clothes and recordings that his manager now had. And even if he had proof it wouldn’t mean anything against them. 

Mechanically Soonyoung got off the step and stumbled down to the pavement, his mind going completely blank. He was nothing more than a robot for them to use and throw away when they wished. He had no choice in this, he never did. He was stupid for thinking he did. But that didn’t matter right now. He wasn’t sure what mattered right now, but his legs moved to their own accord and he made his way down the street and began the long walk to the workshop where his manager sent his car to get fixed. 

He finally arrived at the shop at 8.15, not too sure where the time went or how he got there, but he went up to the information desk and responded with his name when asked. The woman inside the cubicle gave him a small nod before ringing a bell to call a man wearing oil stained overalls. She gave the man a set of keys before continuing to type away at her computer seeming no longer interested in Soonyoung. He numbly followed the man through the workshop, his mind still frozen and clogged. 

It wasn’t until they had passed all the other sheds and garages and were entering the hidden one at the very back that Soonyoung realised that they’d gone past pretty much everything and had yet to have gotten to his car. Which meant that it wasn’t his usual car. It was The Car. His eyes widened as he watched the man punch in numbers into the keypad in the wall. This was high level security. The door slid open and automatic lights flickered on one by one lighting the moderately sized repair shed though call it that was a massive understatement. 

Lined against the walls was a row of cars, that were probably worth more than his life’s earnings, plus his loans, plus his debt, plus his rent, plus… well worth many times more than Soonyoung’s entire being and everything that came with. Mirrors reflected on either wall creating a tunnel of never ending cars and the floor a red carpet that probably had to be given the same amount of care as the cars themselves. The cars ranged from vintage mints to what were obviously specialised orders. No wonder the place was in constant lockdown, if even one of these cars got stolen, they’d have to pay a fine for the rest of their lives and probably from their graves too. 

The man continued to walk along the aisle of cars, finally reaching the one that he’d come to pick up. How his manager had managed to get his hands on this car was beyond his understanding. The olive Lincoln convertible was nothing like you could find these days. It was a beautiful car, something the president of the United States would drive, not some dirty manager come CEO who ripped off other people’s work to call it his own just to make millions. The thought brought back a bitter taste. Soonyoung licked his lips and slowly started getting himself together mentally. Maybe a garage full of expensive cars wasn’t the right place to do it but it would have to do. Taking deep breaths and closing his eyes he started settling back down to earth and accepting that what had happened had happened and he needed to move on. He was better than this, he didn’t deserve this. This was complete bullshit and he hated every bit of it. His momentary calm turned into a storm. 

He snapped open his eyes. The man had driven the car out to the front and was waiting to hand over the keys. Soonyoung looked at the keys in the man’s palm and then at the car. Oh this was going to get back to his house at 9pm tomorrow, but it wasn’t going to sit in the garage till then. If he couldn’t do anything about anything then he’d just have to have his own fun. Cheat the cheater at his own game. Step up. Change up. 

Walking up to the man he took the keys in his hands and gave them a little toss. Giving him a nod he got in the car and watched the man walk back into the warehouse. Getting out his phone he sent a text to his manager to say he’d picked up his car and then started punching in numbers. Lifting the phone up to his ear he sat back and looked up at the rear view mirror. He smirked. 

“Scoups? Call Woozi. We’re going on a drive.”


	2. Like A Flame

The pen in his hand clicked repeatedly as he rested his head on the table, watching his hand float over the page just pressing away at the mechanical button over and over again. Letting out a tired sigh Jihoon lifted his head to put his other arm on the table creating a makeshift pillow before resting his head again and continuing to click away. He stayed like this, focus completely honed into the sound of the clicking pen yet completely blurry of all thought, for a whole three minutes and thirteen seconds until the noise started messing with his head. He slammed down his pen onto the table and let out an angry groan. 

It had been months since he’d had an actual job, throwing everything out the window in the hopes that he could use his talent in creating music to get into the music industry and hit it big. Now he was sitting in his cramped studio that could barely be called a studio any more than it could be called a wardrobe. The room was big enough to fit his small table, his laptop, a monitor mounted on the wall, a keyboard that rolled out from under the desk, and his chair. Anything else would clog up the miniscule room. He’d once tried to put a painting on the wall that a friend of his gave him, in hopes that it would inspire him, but it ended up cramping the room up so much that he felt like he couldn’t breathe. 

His agent worked hard, constantly trying to find him gigs and buyers, but even she knew it was a difficult situation. As it was the agency was very new and pretty much unknown in the field. They also had no connections to companies that were higher up so there was no hope in getting any help. This was a competition not a friendly gathering, only from the outside it seemed like a constantly changing environment but from the inside it was obvious that this was war. If anyone had the chance, they’d drag you down, not build you up. 

Jihoon looked down at his page which was now smeared in ink from his frustrated pen slamming. Sighing he gathered it up in his hands, scrunching it lightly, hands too tired to make it into a ball, and threw it down onto the floor. He pressed at the keys of his laptop hoping it would light up but did so with low hopes. It was long dead because he’d forgotten his charger at home. Jihoon massaged his forehead, frustration eating away at him. 

The thought of food made him groan again, this time in hunger. He hadn’t had a proper meal in weeks, literally living off things people would associate with poor college students. Unfortunately Jihoon wasn’t a poor college student, he was a grown man who could barely feed himself from the 3 jobs he had. 

On weekends he spent most of his day couped in his studio, like he was today. His friday shift finished at 11pm and he went home to take a shower before sleeping for three hour and then heading to the studio. He’d been working away on old and new records since 4am that morning and now it was nearing 8 and all he’d managed to do was add seven more bars to an old song he’d written months ago and correct his grammar on a song that he was planning to hand in the next day. 

On weekdays on the other hand, his days always started off with some sort of bulk bought tea before he headed out at the crack of dawn to get to the marketplace to help with the stall owners with all the carts of vegetables and produce where he could earn various amounts of tips. The few hours between the early morning and nearing to lunch were free, mostly spent sleeping as he had little time to do so at night. Then he’d clean up and go down to the small restaurant where he worked as a waiter during the lunch rush. After that he’d head off to the service station where he’d worked till late into the night. Once his shift was done there he’d head to his studio and work on whatever he had been working on the night before till he was too tired to even move. This routine looped, not changing much but also not paying much either. 

Looking down at his feet Jihoon realised that he’d probably murdered so many trees in the one night. His dead computer meant he had to work on paper the whole time, which he had nothing against though it did mean that he couldn’t backspace his work and had to continuously start over again. At least the trees were already killed before I used them, he thought staring down at the scribbles. 

Out of nowhere he got out of his seat and pushed his chair as far under the table as he could, trying to make as much floor space as possible. Then getting down, he lied down on the paper covered floor. He was lucky he was short enough to fit, if he’d been a normal height he probably wouldn’t have been able to even fit in the room, never mind the floor. Looking up at the roof he stayed quiet, listening to the papers ruffle as he moved around to get comfortable.

Closing his eyes he started hearing a quiet tune in his ears, like a soft breeze from the ocean. It was distant and hard to distinguish but it was there and he needed to chase it. Some sort of brass, a horn perhaps, just not an actual instrument but rather very synthesised, hidden behind a keyboard and extremely soft bass. Digital percussions started kicking in as it came closer the more he listened to it, getting louder and louder, adding more and more substance. He could hear it more clearly now, the brass, the synth, the keyboard, the drum, a flare of EDM along with the smoothness of RnB. Rises and falls to complete one beat silences before the music came back in. He couldn’t believe how strongly he could hear it. 

He sat up fast enough for his back to ache in pain, but he ignored it. He pulled his seat out and sat down, dragging his keyboard from under the desk and turning it on. He played the notes he’d heard, finding exactly what he wanted as if it was already written for him in his head. Getting out his phone he set it down to record everything he did. He didn’t stop until he had everything he’d heard recorded and written down. He listened to the tune over and over, tweaking bits and pieces. The last time he’d had a lead like this was when he’d still been new to the agency, a fresh trainee with so much potential but little training and guidance. The agency had taught him so much, had worked so hard with him, helping him step by step. But in the end they both got shot down by the cruelty of the music industry. 

But regardless of what had been, this was happening right now. Jihoon let out a startled laugh unable to believe he’d done so much in one go just from a fleeting idea. It was incredible and so very rare, he was amazed that he’d actually caught the thought before he lost it. He had it all written down. He had proof that he had imagined it. 

Jihoon grabbed his phone and shared the audio files over to his agent before finding her contact and calling her. He didn’t have to wait for long before she picked up.

“Jihoon? What did you just send me? I haven’t had the chance to open it,” she said worriedly.

“I just had a sudden lead and I’ve got it recorded and written down. Of course there’s a lot of instruments that need to be added, I’ve just done everything using my keyboard since my laptop’s dead, but it’s all down. I can’t believe it’s all written down!” 

“Give me a second I’ll get my laptop.” Jihoon could hear her setting down the phone, footsteps fading away, before she came back and he could hear her typing. Within seconds his recordings started playing faintly through the phone and he couldn’t help but smile as he heard her gasp. 

“Jihoon this is amazing! Where did you even get this idea from?”

“I don’t know, I was lying on the floor when it came to me out of nowhere.” 

“You need to add solid lyrics to this, this will be a hit I just know it!”

“I hope so,” he replies softly. If this didn’t get him at least a little bit of credit then he might as well give up trying to make music. After a few more words they said their goodbyes and hung up. He could still feel a smile on his lips from the conversation and his agents eagerness to get the song out to the public. He shook his head, he still had much to do. Lyrics. Now that was another challenge. 

Jihoon grabbed his pen from his table and took a few empty backed sheets from the floor. At least he wouldn’t be wasting them if he used both sides. Right? He clicked open the pen and settled into his seat. And waited. 

He continued to stare at the piece of paper, watching the bends in the page where he had scrunched it up. His gaze followed the rise and fall of the stark sheet, looking up to the tip of the pen which floated just above it. He started counting. 1. 2. 3. Everything stayed deathly quiet. 13. 14. 15. Not a page on the floor moved. 22. 23. 24. His pen stayed exactly where it was, not even wavering. 35. 36. 37. Absolutely nothing. 41. 42. 43...

It was gone. The trail of thought, the self paving musical sequence, the breeze from the ocean side. It was all gone. Like a flame blown out by the wind. 

Jihoon’s stomach squeezed uncomfortably. He knew it was too good to last but he didn’t understand why it had to last just then. Music was always great but without good lyrics it would look like an undecorated wedding cake. But he had nothing to decorate it with, no pretty fondant flowers, no sprinkles, no edible paint, not even frosting. He had an empty, naked cake and he didn’t have anything to cover it with. 

In a flash he stood up and threw his pen at the back wall, yelling out in frustration. He kicked the pages on the floor, picking them up and ripping them in rage. It was there, it was his, and he lost it. It was his fault, his stupid fault that he’d lost the best lead he’d had in years. The best lead he’d had ever and probably ever get! 

His phone began ringing and he stopped moving around, brushing his hair back with a groan. For a few seconds longer he listened to his phone ring before he let out a sigh and bent down to look for it where it had fallen under the pages during his outburst. He looked at the screen, surprised to see a familiar but long lost name pop up. It had been a while since he’d talked to him and they didn’t have much reason to call each other lately, especially since both of them were constantly working and far too busy to find enough time to chat or find anything to chat about. 

“Scoups?” Jihoon said. It had been so long since he’d said his name, his nickname or now more known as his underground stage name reminding him of when they’d made their names up as kids. Back when wishing to be an idol was okay and not an imaginary fling. 

“Woozi! For a moment I thought you wouldn’t pick up!” said the familiar voice over the phone. 

“Why? Why are you calling me at this time?” he replied, moving his phone from his ear for a moment to check the time. It was 8.32am. 

“Hoshi’s coming to pick you up. You’re at the studio right?”

“What? Yeah, I am, but why?” 

“We’re going on drive I think? I don’t know that’s all he said. He’s on his way so I better go change up and get my cheque for the night. See you soon!” Jihoon could practically hear the smile in Seungcheol’s voice right before he hung up. 

What were they up to? He knew Seungcheol was normally free at this time of day, since he would normally just pick up his pay for his performance from the night before and head home to sleep until his afternoon work shift. So him being free at the particular time made sense. Why was Soonyoung suddenly free enough to go on a drive though? Jihoon might not have the money to buy a proper meal but Soonyoung barely had the time to eat one. Also how were they going to go on a drive? None of them owned a car and the only one with a licence was Soonyoung and that was because his manager made him take his cars to the repair shed so often that he got him one so he wouldn’t get fined or caught by the police. 

He sat down in his chair and let out a soft breath. What was going on, he wondered. He felt his phone vibrate in his hand. He looked down at his phone and saw a new text from Seungcheol. 

Be ready ~Scoups


End file.
